Dog At My Door

So after a hard day’s work, I climb up the usual flight of stairs to see – a dog. A big dog. Right in front of my door. I stare at it. It stares back. I don’t know what to do, so I actually found a refuge at the community center, mulling options. At first I thought it was owned by a guest of my neighbour’s, but then it turns out she too was shocked by its sudden presence. So, still locked out, we called the cops, who called SPCA. Am typing this while waiting for them.

It’s a sweet looking dog, pretty old and probably sick. If I wasn’t so deadly afraid of dogs, I’d probably pet it or something. As it is, I can’t even stand next to it, because the confined spaces are really tight and I’d hate to be trapped between a dog and the wall. So I’m waiting at the carpark gate for the SPCA. They just arrived.

SY thinks I could have done more for the dog, but I don’t know. She says the SPCA would put it to sleep, but I sure hope not.

Anyway, there’s a happy ending to the story, because the owner, from the pet store opposite, luckily returned just as the dog was being led to the SPCA van. And another dog-man reunion ensues.